My hand drifted to one of the tender spots on my neck, palm cupping over it. As sleep finally claimed me, I dreamed only of beautiful possibilities—a life beyond barriers, beyond illness, beyond the bubble that had defined my existence for as long as I could remember—instead of persistent pain.
28
LUCY
{The day after scent sampling}
Matched.
The action movieexploded across the screen, a fury of flame, pluming smoke, and twisted metal.
I pressed forward into the plush sofa, knuckles whitening on the cushion’s edge as a stuntman vaulted from a speeding car. It had to be computer graphics, but I still found my heart racing as he aimed for the roof of a moving train.He wasn’t going to make it! He was going to miss and die!I breathed a sigh of relief when he slammed down onto his target, rolled a few times, and came to a stop on his knees.
I’d seen this kind of film before; my favorite Christmas movie was Hard Heat. That involved an Alpha cop, a hostile takeover, and a lot of machine guns. Yet, I could watch a million pulse-pounding movies and feel the same familiar anxiety and excitement. Maybe a lifetime of watching the world throughhospital windows made the impossible possibility of doing crazy stunts myself something that never grew stale.
The movie continued, but now my mind had drifted. It was entertaining, yet it woke a deeper longing—to approach the world unfettered by sickness or another impediment. I wanted the chance to do anything and everything.
Not sure I’d volunteer for what the guy on the TV was doing—now fighting tooth and nail with six bad guys on the train, his face bloodied and body battered. But that wasn’t the point, the point is I wanted the chance.
Suddenly cold, though the room was well insulated from the Washington winter outside, I pulled a cashmere throw off the back of the sofa and wrapped it around myself. It was so incredibly soft. Even if I stayed at Eros for ten years, I don’t think I’d ever get use to the luxury. It felt alien after years in hospitals.
I settled back against the couch, gaze drifting to the windows rather than the screen. The sun poured molten gold over Seattle, igniting the glass façades of nearby skyscrapers. People would be walking the sidewalks below. They’d be driving down the roads. Men and women would stop at the street vendor for coffee. Some would get black drip, others would ask for something fancier.
I felt a flutter in my gut, as I often did these days, when I remembered that hopefully soon, I’d also be part of that hustle and bustle. Would it be silly to hope my scent matches lived in Seattle? That would be too good to be true, but I hated the idea of leaving. A few excursions and I’d fallen irrevocably in love with this city.
The movie faded further into background noise, and I couldn’t shake the urge to leave this room—to run, to leap, to claim my autonomy even just for a fleeting moment. I hadn’t been cleared to leave alone, not yet, but I knew how to navigate to the right elevators, the right building level, the right exit.
Without meaning to, I stood up. I took a step.
And I was immediately frozen by a knock on my door.
I turned, grabbing the remote from the sofa arm and pausing the movie.
"Come in," I called, smoothing down my hair—it still startled me after all these weeks. I wondered if my original ash blonde would ever return, or if I’d have the silvery-white forever.
Doctor Swann entered, her tall Alpha frame momentarily pausing in the doorway before she stepped fully into the suite. She stopped her journey halfway to the sofa.
Her usually composed demeanor had fractured—fingers fidgeting with the sleek pheromone-blocking device she wore to protect scent sample purity, hair slightly mussed, weight shifting from one expensive shoe to the other.
"Lucy," she said, my name emerging with unusual hesitation from someone so typically assured. "I hope I'm not interrupting."
"Just watching a movie." I gestured toward the screen, now frozen on an image of a man mid-punch, blood spattering from his opponent's mouth. "Learning about normal people things."
She managed a tight smile. “Normal is relative, I suppose.”
I waited for her to come sit, but Doctor Swann remained right where she was, as if she hadn’t quite decided whether she should leave or stay. I hadn’t known her for a long time, but ever since our first meeting, she’d been the embodiment of Alpha certainty. This restless, hesitant version felt… wrong.
"Is everything okay?" I asked, a pit forming in my stomach.
Had my lab results changed? Was I regressing? Was my brief taste of normalcy about to be snatched away?
“No… yes—” She paused, then shook her head slightly. "Not exactly.”
“I don’t understand.” Confusion flooded me. My knees shook, so I sat back down, remote still held limply in one hand. “Please just tell me if I’m sick again.”
“Oh, Lucy, no.” Now she did walk over, closing the space between us with four great strides. She sat down next to me, placing a hand on my knee. “It's a very good thing depending on your perspective."
But her voice betrayed her real feelings. The slight tremor, the uncharacteristic pitch. She didn't like what she had to tell me.
